"'Tisn't for myself alone, I'm grieving dear. I'd try to bear it, praying God to help me; but it's for you, Gerty. You're too young; and it can't be expected a stranger will have the patience with your faults which those have, who've known you longer."
"Not if the stranger is my husband? You don't know how he loves me, Hannah."
The woman shook her head; but instantly added; "If I could be sure 'twas for your good; and that your mother in heaven would approve; I'd hide all my own grief at the parting, so far down in my own heart, that you would never know it; but I can't be sure and so—"
The sound of hasty steps on the gravelled path checked her words. Gertrude started to her feet, and seemed about to dart away; but like a frightened bird, not knowing from which direction the enemy would appear.
The young men came in together. It was a relief to all that in the moonlight the traces of emotion could be but dimly observed. Edward advanced at once to his sister and put his arm around her.
"Come with me a moment," he said softly.
"I have heard Paul's confession," he began abruptly. "I would give all I am worth if he never had come to Rose Cottage; or that, having come, he had shown the honor of a man. He says you have engaged to be his; to leave your home in a month and go with him to Chicago where he may, or may not, succeed."
"Yes, I told him so; and I shall keep my word." Gertrude held up her head and looked her brother proudly in the face.
"Not with my consent," was the firm response. "Nor with the consent of your guardian. Why, Gerty, you are only a child; not half educated; totally unfit for the cares of a family."
"Paul has promised to teach me; to overlook all my deficiencies, if I will be his wife."